


Doppelganger

by bluebottle762



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Development, Episode Prompto Spoilers, M/M, MT!Prompto, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating may change in later chapters, This is the fic where I forcibly hammer everything missing from the game back into place with extras, slight variation from canon, we write our own DLC like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-04-05 06:45:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14038485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebottle762/pseuds/bluebottle762
Summary: As people we are born alone, but as we develop and grow we find structures, and within them, ourselves. Family, friends, loved ones - we identify ourselves by those around us, definition by association. Prompto has always felt alone. Even now, surrounded by a group who openly support and accept him, that feeling of ‘other’ remains persistent. It’s manageable, he’s lived with it his entire life and it can no longer throw pitfalls under his feet. Or so he thinks, until ‘other’ becomes a camp of two.





	1. Grief and Recognition

Forcing himself to keep his cool, Prompto wrested one of the sleek looking sniper rifles off of the weapons rack in front of him, shuffling back into his patchy hiding spot as fast and as noiselessly as he could manage. Even through his thick winter pants, the metal walkway he was perched on sucked the heat out from under him. Clenching his jaw, he forced himself to breathe through his nose. He needed to be steady if he was going to make at least the first shot. God fuck, he hoped to hell that really was a silencer on the end of this thing or else this was going to devolve rapidly.

All it would take was one loud noise and he was fucked. Then again, if anyone or _anything_ so much as rounded the corner to his right he was in even more trouble. Arguably, he was already kind of irreparably fucked. 

_Don’t think about the rage in Noct’s expression. Your heart’s already broken, they aren’t coming for you. Don’t think about it and get the fuck out of here._

He forced himself up onto his knees, steadying the rifle across the top of the supply crate he was using for cover. There were a number of MTs below him, lined up like toy soldiers and hauntingly stationary. Grinding his teeth, he scanned over them as quickly as he dared, not wanting to miss something vital. Barrels, he noted. They looked explosive, or at the very least not fun to be around when one went pop. It’d do. 

Before he lined up to take the shot however, he snapped his head up to check for any potential patrols on his walkway. It didn’t look like it, although there were a number of assassin units stationed directly across from him on the other side of the room where the walkway opened out into a proper platform. Behind them was a doorway, the only way forward Prompto had been able to locate without backtracking. Shit. He was going to have to get past them. Maybe the barrel wasn’t such a good idea.

As he was debating what to do next, trying his best to get a look at the assassin units and their surroundings through the scope, the doors across from him opened. Swinging the rifle back over to the doors, keeping it at roughly head-height, his heart pounded in his chest. What if it was Ardyn? Or-

No, it was just another MT. He’d clenched his jaw to the point of pain again. Trying to force himself to relax the relevant muscles, he watched through his scope as the new MT entered the room. It was smaller than the hulking assassin units surrounding it, slimmer too but not- He froze, and the unit also came to a halt, as if detecting the flash of fear that had passed through him. 

He could pull the trigger right now. Just one little motion and it would end. The thought screamed at him, but ultimately all he was left with was the fading reverb and the realisation that he _couldn’t_. Crosshairs lined up perfecting over the thing’s temples, he felt utterly petrified, as if all of his extremities had solidified into unyielding stone, refusing to move.

Its head turned to fix rippled red lenses on him right down the scope.

********

Insomnia had fallen. He still couldn’t process it. It felt so distant and unreal, as if it were simply a hypothetical scenario, like he hadn’t personally seen its dashed and smoking remains, hunched and silent in its mock-serenity. The city lay there in the landscape like a ribcage, prised open and cracked to expose the beating heart and faltering lungs beneath, fluttering blasphemously up at an uncaring sky, blue and contented and removed. 

The trek to Lestallum had been tense, terse and difficult. Whenever they had stopped anywhere for longer than a few minutes Gladio had started pacing. Impatient to leave and more short tempered than usual. Ignis had retreated into his practicalities, performing the motions of an everyday existence on the road without ever actively engaging in it. Noctis had started having headaches. 

Even though the market was by far the most joy inspiring place Prompto had set foot in for awhile, any real enjoyment he could have potentially gleaned from the experience was quickly smothered. The developing atmosphere between Gladio and his sister sat heavy over the little party like a cold damp cloth-- Thick and suffocating. A considerable part of him wanted to bolt and leave them too it, as though he were intruding on something private and delicate instead of accompanying the siblings to the market after being invited to do so. 

“Lotta food here, Ignis’ll be pleased.” He bit carefully at the inside of his cheek, watching as Gladio shot a glare at the stall full of fresh produce Prompto had gestured to. “Heck, I don’t even know what half those things _are_ , and I like to think I’m pretty good with veggies!” It sounded forced and he knew it, but damn it if he wasn’t at least trying. 

“Yeah.” The word was little more than a grunt, making Prompto want to simultaneously cringe away and shut up, and grab the man by the shoulders and shake him. Iris looked just as disheartened by her brother’s response, but offered up her own watery smile, clasping her hands behind her and bouncing once on the spot. At least she was trying.

“Jared swears by the peppers out here, says they’re fresher than any he’s ever had.” It wasn’t much of a line of conversation, but it was something and Prompto clung to it like a drowning man might a piece of floating wreckage. 

“Yeah, we’ve seen a lot of wild peppers around back in Leide, picked a bunch too! Ignis does great skewers with them.” He shot a glance at Gladio, hoping he might jump onboard the relatively safe topic of Ignis’ cooking, especially regarding one of his favourites, but no go. 

They continued like that for awhile, Prompto and Iris making small talk as they wandered through the market-- about Ignis’ cooking, Iris’ sewing and Prompto’s photography, about the Leville and how neither of them had ever stayed in a hotel before. Although Noctis seemed like a natural topic to veer into, Prompto did his best not to bring up his best friend. Talking about Noct meant talking about Insomnia, about all the ridiculous stuff they used to talk about when they were Iris’ age, all their misspent hours at the arcade that most likely was no longer standing. 

That hurt the most for some reason. It bothered him how he was more capable of mourning a trashy old arcade than he was the people who had, at the very least, been displaced with no safe place to turn to. Insomnia _was_ the safe place, right up until it hadn’t been. But still he found himself thinking of their old favourite haunt. When had they even stopped going there? Why? Had it still been open when the wall came down? He didn’t know. 

He mourned his old life, not that it had been much, but it hadn’t been this.

No matter what they talked about however, Gladio remained silent, or near silent. Pent up intensity rolled off him in waves, threatening to smother the infant flame Prompto and Iris were struggling to keep alight. After spending close to an hour wandering around the main touristy bits of Lestallum, it started to get dark. The tiny city lighting up around them with a warm, pleasant glow that made Prompto feel artificially safe.

“We should head back.” It was the first full sentence Prompto had heard out of Gladio since they’d left the Hotel.

“Uh,” Prompto caught Iris’ eye and she shrugged. “Sure, Big Guy. Sounds good. I’m pooped!” His smile faded regretfully as Gladio turned on his heel and made off in the direction of the Leville without waiting for them. Prompto exchanged a look with Iris, who sighed deeply. It was as if all the brightly coloured distractions they’d been throwing at each other for the past hour suddenly fell away from her, leaving only devastation and exhaustion. 

“Dad… Didn’t make it.” Closing her eyes, Iris seemed to be drawing on some inner strength, showing no signs of tears, although the cracks in her countenance were more visible than they had been this morning.

 _Oh_.

Prompto felt like he’d just been slapped with a voretooth. How did you respond to that? What could you say that wasn’t just empty words that filled the socially acceptable gestures? He’d never had to mourn before, not like this. He’d never known anyone who’d died. His parents had both been only children whose parents-

His parents. 

He felt like someone had ripped the bottom out of his stomach and kicked him into a stumbling free fall. They were dead, weren’t they? The realisation crashed into him like a screaming tidal wave of sickening panic and self hatred. Why had it taken him so long to think about them? Had he just assumed they’d be fine? Or did he just not care? He felt the bile rise, threatening and bitter at the back of his throat, doing everything he could to keep it taped down behind an expression that didn’t scream.

“I’m really sorry, Iris.” And he was, he really truly was, but he found he couldn’t comprehend the death of a relative stranger, even the father of one of his friends, when faced with his own mountain of screaming grief.

She smiled, weak and watery, and nodded.

“Yeah.” Her voice wavered, belying the tears that lurked beneath the surface of her careful composure. Had he been capable of being so mature at her age? He doubted it. “It’s been hard, but he wouldn’t have let Regis die unless…” She pressed her lips together tightly, clamping down on whatever shred of herself had been about to fly loose, unbidden. 

There was a beat of pause, Iris clearly on the verge of tears with Gladio already halfway down the side street that lead to the Leville, and Prompto, standing lost and broken between them. He reached out a cautious hand to hover over Iris’ shoulder, inviting her in for a tentative hug. She took it, full force, wrapping her arms around his chest and hiding her face against his shirt. A touch awkwardly he held her around her shoulders, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

“Sorry-” she choked out against his jacket, still managing to hold back physical tears. 

“No, no, no- Hey, it’s alright-” Rubbing a hand across her upper back he glanced at Gladio’s retreating form anxiously. He doubted he was aware of what was going on behind him. He didn’t know much about Gladio’s relationship with his sister up close, but the idea that Gladio would walk away from her this close to tears was inconceivable. 

“Gladio!” Prompto called after him, hoping to the gods that it was the right choice to make. The man stopped, steady foot falls coming to an abrupt pause, his head still bowed, and for a moment Prompto feared he was just going to keep moving. After a collective pause, Gladiolus turned around, his heavy browed expression knocking itself sideways into something that almost resembled anxiety when he noticed they weren’t directly behind them. It wasn’t an expression Prompto ever wanted to see on him again. 

“Shit. Sorry.” As Gladio approached them again, he shot an apologetic but thankful look at Prompto, who still had Iris folded against his chest protectively. He looked up at his tall friend, radiating concern. “I got it. Go catch up with Iggy.” 

Prompto nodded wordlessly, brow furrowing as he gently pulled Iris away from her spot against his shoulder. As soon as he was free of her, he made to move away from the siblings, recognising their need to be alone without being asked. Honestly he really wasn’t meant to be here, hadn’t been since they’d left Noct and Ignis in the first place. As he made to leave Gladio called his attention back.

“Hey Prompto?” He had an arm round Iris’ shoulders now, although they were still a small distance apart. Prompto caught his eye and waited. “Thanks.” 

Flashing him an unimpressive smile that dried up almost as soon as it came into contact with the air, he managed a mumbled “No problem” before shoving his hands into his pockets and making for the Leville. 

He felt hollow, so exhausted and drained that he could feel the dark circles beginning to etch themselves under his eyes, gauntness creeping over him like a cloud. That familiar feeling of ‘other’ had come back to camp on his shoulders, unshakable and cloying. Briefly he debated not going back to the hotel at all, but he banished it quickly. He was sure there was somewhere in the room he could hide out that wouldn’t get under Ignis’ feet.

Entering the foyer, Prompto found himself blocked from immediately ascending the stairs to their room by two of the hotel staff struggling to get a large black trunk up the stairs. Pushing his roiling thoughts down for the time being, Prompto half-jogged towards them.

“Need a hand?” They accepted, a touch relieved, and reconfigured themselves on the stair way so that one of the pair plus Prompto were pushing the thing, the other pulling and steering it up the curving steps to the landing. 

It was a task, but between the three of them they managed it. The trunk itself was big enough for Prompto to curl up in, made of textured metal and plastic with three heavy grade locks keeping it closed, and it weighed an absolute tonne. It looked military.

As they heaved the thing up onto the carpet of the landing, the leading member of hotel staff (whose name Prompto had learned was ‘Keat’) cheered flatly, too tired to put any real effort into it.

“This is some serious hunter equipment.” Bracing his hands against his knees, Prompto tried to get his breath back. He wasn’t by any means out of shape, but he was no Gladio and the thing really was awkward and heavy. 

“Didn’t look like a hunter, but I guess he must be. Astrals know how he got it here on his own though. Skinny looking guy.” Keat mopped at his brow with the back of his wrist, squinting over the railing down into the foyer distractedly.

“My money is still on ‘Glaive.” The mousy haired woman who had done the other half of the pushing next to Prompto stated flatly. Unlike the other two, she didn’t seem to be especially wrecked by the haul.

“Yeah, maybe, but what refugee has time to lug something like this around when they’re escaping a city?” Keat didn’t seem especially invested in the topic. “Anyway, let’s get this thing into the room. Thanks for your help, but we better take it from here.” 

Prompto stood back to let them push the thing ahead of him, not wanting to get in their way and slow them down. Stuck in an awkward hunched position, the pair of them managed to slide it down the hall, taking it right past the room Ignis had put them in and, with some trial and error, round the corner. 

Well there was a mystery he’d probably never get the answer to. 

Fishing his room key out of a pocket, Prompto unlocked the door to their room and let himself in quietly. With the distraction of new people and physical work gone, his temporary stable mood faded. The eye of the storm passed over him, wrenching away the relative calm to thrust him back into whipping winds and biting rain.

Entering the room with his head bowed, it took him until he’d fully closed the door behind him with a click to notice Ignis sat in one of the square leather chairs. He had his glasses off, one dark leg of the frame clutched in a gloved hand on his knee. His other hand was up near his face, hurriedly wiping at his eyes with the bare skin of his wrist. 

Ignis had been crying. 

Sliding his glasses back into place, Ignis turned gracefully in his seat to look at him, seemingly composed. His carefully cultivated calm faltered momentarily, confusion, stress and anxiety colliding behind his expression. 

“Is Gladio not with you?” Although his face might have been straining to give him away, his voice was unaltered. Prompto was genuinely impressed. How many times had he had to do that in the past? Push everything down and present a perfectly creased illusion of managing for the sake of others. 

“No, he- Iris.” Rubbing at the back of his neck Prompto felt his shoulders hunch involuntarily, and he busied himself with kicking off his shoes before approaching the older man. Ignis visibly relaxed, sinking back into the shiny leather like a weight had been lifted.

“Good. I don’t doubt she needs him at the moment.” He paused to consider something, and then added “And vice versa.”

“She’s a strong kid. Stronger than I would be in her situation” _Than I_ am _in her situation_ , he thought. “I can’t imagine that, losing your parents at 15.” 

There was an uncomfortable pause then, Ignis looking back at him to study his face with open concern. 

“Prompto..” Ignis began delicately, but Prompto talked over him pointedly.

“Noct asleep?” Coming further into the room, he stopped just past the dark door to the bathroom to peer round the corner to where Noctis was curled up on one of the beds, fast asleep. 

Ignis let it go, pooling his attention back to Noctis.

“As is his want. I’m concerned about these headaches, though. He’s never been prone to them before and these are severe to say the least.” Ignis wasn’t the only one who was concerned, Prompto’s stomach churned with worry at the thought alone. He wasn’t about to lose Noctis as well. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t fucking take that. 

Ignis fixed him with another searching look, and this time Prompto had nothing of substance to derail him with.

“So the market-” 

“Prompto I know-” Ignis frowned, pressing onward as Prompto relented to the situation. “I know this has been as hard on you as it has for any of us. If you want to talk about it…” 

Did he want to talk about it? He didn’t think so. If he so much as twitched at the tail end of the thread of the present in his palm, the entire complex piece of the past would unravel around him. Then they’d see for the first time how much of a mess he truly was, how unfit of a person he was to be one of the people in charge of Noctis’ well being, and no doubt they’d demand he leave. Talking was dangerous. 

“Nah. Nah I’m fine.” Ignis did not look at all convinced by his airy tone. “I mean- yeah. It’s been hard what with Insomnia and the King and-” He sighed, frustrated. He looked out through the open shutter doors and over the balcony to where all the peaceful Lestallum lights still gave the illusion of warm and twinkling normality. “It’s been hard.” 

“If you want we can try our best to look for-” Prompto couldn’t let Ignis finish that thought. If he heard it voiced he’d implode, and it’d all come crashing around him in fully realised technicolour hell.

“No! No… It’s fine, we have other stuff that needs our attention. More important stuff. Like the headaches.” Running a hand up through the back of his hair, Prompto leaned against the wall, his other hand catching at his belt on automatic.

Ignis was right though, his parents weren’t necessarily dead, they could well have escaped the chasming city with other refugees, although there was no guarantee they’d have headed to Lestallum, much less made it.

“I think-” He felt like he was going to be sick. “I think I just need some air. Gladio should be back soon and- well you’re the only one he _talks_ to.” The _only_ one he could talk to, realistically. Prompto knew Gladio viewed him as another charge by extension, thereby excluding him from being someone the Shield could open up to. Him and Ignis had had similar enough experiences growing up, in tandem with a similar duty of care to Noctis that they had an implicit understanding all of their own which Prompto could never hope to attain. 

“I’m just gonna-” Prompto jerked a thumb towards the balcony and grimaced. 

“Alright. I’m right here if you need me.” Ignis sat back in his seat again, clearly displeased with this result but powerless to do anything about it short of pinning him down.

“Yeah.” Prompto’s voice came out weak and distant. “Thanks.” 

Stepping out onto the balcony felt like stepping out into a different world once he’d pulled the shutters closed behind him. Even though Ignis and the sleeping Noctis were still only a few feet away, the increased breeze and soft buzz of street noise soothed and distanced him. The air out here felt more breathable for some reason.

The balcony itself was longer that the section he had access to, wrapping around the side of the building where it opened out onto other rooms, divided into sections by ironwork partitions. With the shutters closed behind him, there wasn’t much light besides that provided by the street below, dim enough to be romantic, especially when coupled with the calming sounds of the large block-like fountain that took up a good chunk of the square. It wasn’t the most beautiful thing in the world, but Prompto certainly appreciated it at present. 

Approaching the railing, he leant forward to rest his elbows on it, taking a deep breath in and holding it for a count of two before letting it go in a rush. It had gotten dark quickly since he’d come back. True, most of the light had already gone by then, but now it was almost indistinguishable from the middle of the night, the sky above him stained a rich deep blue. There were more stars visible here than there had been in Insomnia, although standing in light studded Lestallum there were a great deal less than the multitude of times they’d camped over the past few weeks. Searching the overcast night sky above him, he thought he could pick out a couple of constellations, although they’d never been his strong suit.

“Bow of the Clever?” He hazarded a guess, giving the faint string of stars in question a doubtful look. 

He didn’t want to deal with the storm in his heart right now. He didn’t really want to deal with it at all, ever. He’d be happy if it could all just sit in a little bottle somewhere on the shelves of his rib cage and rage against the stopper until he died. That’d be just fine. 

_Then again_ , a treacherous little voice spoke up from somewhere nestled deep within his badly shrouded vulnerability; _you’ve already got so many bottles it’s a wonder you don’t clink when you move. An apothecary of pity._

Gritting his teeth, he bowed his head forward over the railing, letting a single dry sob fall feather-like to the cobblestones. 

The shutters on the next balcony along opened, a pair of parallel rivers of warm yellow light fell out across the tiles and cascaded under the railing and into the square. Prompto jumped, not having realised the room adjacent was even occupied to start with. For a moment it seemed that that was it, that perhaps all the room’s occupant had wanted was the breeze, content to stay inside their room and leave Prompto to tend his bruises in peace. But there was no such luck.

The man moved almost silently, and if it hadn’t been for the shape and shadow of him interrupting the light Prompto mightn’t have even realised he’d walked out at all. He was thin, but in the same way Ignis was thin, toned and flexible but without bulk. If Prompto had been standing straight, they would most likely be about the same height. He either hadn’t noticed him, or had simply chosen not to acknowledge his presence. As the stranger approached the railing, curiosity bid Prompto to take a more indepth glance at him. 

He stood with his back to the railing, elbows resting comfortably on the rough surface of it with his legs crossed at the ankle in front of him and his head tipped back. The fancy iron work of the partition blocked the man’s face from view, but Prompto could make out neatly styled blond hair, currently disarrayed and falling out of his face. The rest of him was pretty visible though. His original read on his body type had been accurate, deceptively toned and designed for flexibility and speed. Even though he was clad in what were quite obviously sleep clothes, the fabric of his loose fitting pants was thin and drapey enough to show off the slender shape of his legs and, if Prompto squinted, the crest of his hips. A strip of skin was just visible between the waistband of his forest green sleep pants and the hem of his grey tank top, which had ridden up.

Prompto had to admit he was kind of gorgeous, at least from this angle. Curiosity sated, he looked away quickly before the stranger could catch him staring, looking back down into the square instead. 

It was difficult to forget he was there though. Not because he was attractive, simply because he was another human being in relatively close proximity. Prompto stared down into the rippling water of the fountain, trying his best to recapture his thoughts in an attempt to file them away before going back in to face another round with Ignis.

“Yes?” Prompto jumped so hard he nearly toppled over the railing into the very fountain he was examining. Heart thundering, he whipped his head around towards the source of the voice, panicked at the idea he was being addressed. 

“Oh no, I quite understand.” Prompto eased himself down from his shock, still gripping the railing tightly. His partner on the balcony had turned so he had his back to him, one elbow still slung over the rail, holding a phone to his ear in his left hand. Odd, why turn to face the dark stretch of wall rather than the square? Prompto shook his head to clear the thought. What did it matter to him which way this guy chose to face when he took a call? It didn’t. 

“I don’t know, but I can check?” There was something about his voice though that was off, he decided. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly was making him so antsy, but there was definitely something. His accent maybe? He didn’t sound Lucian, but then that wasn’t a crime. Neither did Ignis. 

There was a long pause, like he was listening to the person on the other end of the line giving a long and rambling explanation. Despite himself, Prompto found he was waiting to hear the end of this conversation, losing himself in the brief mental reprieve. His unknowing companion turned again, leaning forward on the rail this time, much like Prompto himself, phone still held up to his ear out of sight, right arm folded under his chest along the rail. Prompto watched him out the corner of his eye. 

The man shifted his weight, seemingly unhappy about something.

“No, I can’t get a decent look in, it’s just coming up the same.” A pause. A soft sigh. “Alright.” Prompto was surprised to hear him give a dark little laugh, low and smooth and sultry. He’d been under the impression this was a business call. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

There really was something off about his voice, it was actively starting to bother him.

“Alright. You too, when you go.” Straightening, the man rolled his shoulder and sighed, apparently listening. For some unknown reason, Prompto felt tense. He laughed again, faint and affectionate and Prompto decided, within the theatre of his mind, that this man was either fucking his boss or simply in a very business like relationship to begin with. “Okay. Goodnight.” 

Taking a step back from the railing, the stranger made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a grunt, seemingly frustrated about something. Apparently he’d hung up, as the next thing Prompto heard from him after a pause was so quiet he almost didn’t catch it.

“Where the hell _are_ you?” He sounded antsy and upset, as if not having the answer was deeply distressing. 

Alright, so maybe he was fucking his boss in secret and had now been sidelined off to this hotel to… To what exactly? This was dumb, he shouldn’t be trying to tell stories with other people’s lives. 

Prompto scratched at the back of his head awkwardly. He clearly hadn’t been noticed yet, shrouded by the relative darkness perhaps, his silhouette confused by the fancy partition, and he wasn’t especially keen to draw attention to himself after having inadvertently eavesdropped on this man’s phone call. 

He didn’t have to wait long for his reprieve. The stranger took a deep breath in through his nose, exhaling it deliberately with a definite edge of disappointment. Turning, he padded barefoot back into his room. As he passed back into the light behind a different section of the fancy iron partition, Prompto finally got a look at his face. In the split second that he caught an uninterrupted glimpse of him before he vanished back into his room, Prompto felt like he’d dissociated. 

But that was bullshit. Right? That was bullshit. Just a trick of the light and his tired and overworked mental state, his brain playing recognition tricks on him for lack of anything better to do. 

Surely, he hadn’t actually had his face.


	2. Symptomatic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains a fairly in-depth depiction of a panic attack.

The cafe attached to the Leville was surprisingly quiet considering it was the start of the lunch time rush, but quite frankly that was ideal. Ignis and Gladio had decided to go out and sample the local street food on their own, something Prompto suspected would be a very welcome break for Ignis at least, if not Gladio as well. It was nice to have Noctis to himself again, even if they were both thoroughly peopled out and tired. He supposed maybe that was why it was nice; the two of them had their very own brand of companionable quiet that was blessedly still in a functional condition, even after all the upheaval. It was something to cling to, and Prompto was going to, no matter how guilty he felt over it. 

“Iris really wore you out this morning, huh?” Gesturing at Noct with the remainder of his roll, Prompto grinned. Dipping it back into his soup, he continued. “Good to see she’s alright, though.” She wasn’t. Not even remotely, but if she didn’t want Noctis to see the cracks in her mask then Prompto wasn’t about to out her. He understood that, sure enough. Hell, didn’t he just. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Sparing a brief glance up at his best friend, Noct picked at his panini dispassionately, scrunching up his face as his idly questing fingers found an unwanted strip of red onion encased in the cheese. Extracting it expertly, he sighed and flicked the offending vegetable across the table onto the edge of Prompto’s plate. 

“Dude, no!” Laughing through a mouthful of soup-dipped bread, Prompto picked up his as yet unused spoon, flipping it to nudge away the intruding piece of purple with the tip of the handle. Swallowing his mouthful, he stuck his tongue out at Noctis, earning a soft smile in response. “Those things are evil, even I won’t touch those.” 

This felt so normal it made his head spin. One moment he was so hollow it ached, the next he was laughing with Noct like they might have done less than three weeks ago. _Less than three weeks_. It felt like a lifetime. Part of him wanted to stand up and scream, wanted to flip the table and burst into tears, to wreck the moment until it mirrored him. The rest of him simply wanted to insulate himself in it, bury his head in the sand and pretend that nothing had happened, that nothing _was_ happening, and just go back to being young and dumb and-

He stopped himself. Not only was that not something that could happen, but it never had been. _Bury it. Bury it under the rubble of the rest of your life. It belonged in Insomnia, and it can die there too._

Noctis sat up a little straighter, a soft smirk settling itself into his expression like a cat in front of a heater a hooded slyness creeping in around his eyes. He tilted his chin out haughtily, regarding Prompto down the length of his nose. 

“If Specs were here, he’d eat it for me.” His tone was airy and aloof, and Prompto knew this too. Noct never said anything genuine when he used this voice, he only talked hot garbage, pretending he was the bratty little prince most people supposed him to be-- a subtle form of humour very particular to Noct.

“Yeah?” Folding his legs up underneath him on his chair, Prompto cracked a grin back at Noctis, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Yeah.” Leaning back in his chair, Noct raised his eyebrows at him in the suggestion of a challenge.

“Shame he isn’t here then, right?” Sitting up a little straighter himself, Prompto went back to his soup with a mock version of Noctis’ own aloofness. He broke character almost instantly as the spoon touched his tongue. “Oh my god, this is really good.” Whatever dead end joke they’d been building up paled into irrelevance. 

After getting Noct to try some off his spoon, and then howling with exaggerated protest when Noctis wouldn’t return the favour with his panini, Prompto started to feel a little more together. So things had changed, his entire world had been fucked beyond recognition and more, but at least he still had Noct, and between them they still had whatever this was. Even if it was just a facade over something bombed out and crumbling, he didn’t care. The paint was bright, and that was all he needed right now.

No. Wrong thought. They were best friends, that’s what this was. What it had always been, and what it always would be. _Until he gets sick of you._

The stray thought felt like a punch to the gut, so much so Prompto was surprised he hadn’t recoiled physically. Evidently something of it had shown on his face though, as Noct was watching him with a mild, careful concern.

“Uh, everything okay?” Slowly, Noct put down the top half of his panini, peeled open to allow Prompto to spoon in a portion of his soup just to see if it worked. 

“Yeah!” Prompto hefted a chilly imitation of his previous comradery into place, hoping Noct would either buy it or take the hint. He studied Prompto for a second or two more before evidently deciding to let it go.

_The paint is bright, that’s all that matters._

“Okay.” Lifting the top of his sandwich again, he fixed Prompto with a look of grave seriousness.”Soup me.” 

After finishing off their food, Noctis suggested they head down past the car park to get a good look at the view and to let Prompto take some photographs, now that they were alone and unencumbered. Leaving Noct waiting in the lobby with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, Prompto raced back up to their room to grab his camera. As his feet hit carpet, he slowed down to a more sedate pace, tensing his shoulders as he rubbed agitatedly at the back of his neck, sighing sharply through his nose. 

Whatever shred of good humoured normalcy he’d been sheltering under seemed to be anchored to a short radius around Noct, and as such it had not deigned to follow him up the stairs. He felt as though all of his carefully accumulated energy had suddenly leaked out of him to pool around his boots, staining the dark floral carpet with every step. An inky trail left to seep and blur like a corruption.

He was turning the key in the lock when he heard the door to the room next to theirs open from around the corner. Pausing, he strained to listen, his heart climbing nauseously up into his throat. The door swung closed with a clunk, shortly followed by the jangle of keys and the dull sound of boots shuffling against carpet. Why was he even listening? The guy had just as much right to be here as Prompto did. After all, it was a hotel. People stayed in hotels, that was the general idea. This escalating dread was misplaced and unwanted, and yet resolutely refusing to shift. 

Prompto wanted to duck into the room and lock the door behind him but he couldn’t. Frustratingly, he found the effort required to unroot himself from the spot was more than he could presently afford to expend after having sloshed most of it across the landing upon his ascent. 

The guy probably didn’t even look that much like him anyway. It had been a trick of the light, stress making his brain find familiar shapes and patterns in things. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had a small scale hallucination, after all. So why then was he so het up and fixated on this? 

More metallic clinking as the keys were presumably stowed away in a pocket somewhere, and then footsteps began to advance towards the bend in the hallway. Prompto tensed, holding his breath as if that would somehow make him invisible. Abruptly, the footsteps stopped. 

The relative silence seemed to stretch on into a screaming rush in his ears, waiting for the next foot fall, the one that would bring him round the corner and into clear view. It didn’t come. 

Something in him snapped, giving way under the pressure of silent panic and self-preservation. His wrist turned, unlocking the door and his feet sparked into uncoordinated life, forcing him forward to stumble into the room and press the door shut behind him with a startling bang. 

For a moment time seemed to hang still, his anxiety rising to clamour at him, that this was the wrong room, that he’d been too loud, that someone would come to complain. The list went on, spiralling rapidly into nonsensical outcomes that he could do nothing to combat, still frozen stiffly against the inside of the door, palms pressed flat against the wood except where the key bit coldly into his palm.

The footsteps resumed, coming increasingly closer down the hall until they were level, and then they passed by. Prompto’s heart was hammering wildly against the base of his throat, leaving him light headed and dizzy.

He might have been imagining it, but for a moment it had sounded like whoever it was had hesitated on the other side of the door. Only for a second, but more than enough to break pace.

Unpeeling himself from the woodwork, he forced himself to breath, crossing the room to scoop his camera up off the bed by the window that he’d shared with Gladio the night before. 

_You’re going crazy,_ a voice inside him spoke up, _It’s the stress, or whatever. It’s finally fucking snapped you. This is worse than middle school. At least there was no one to figure you out in middle school._

Instinctively, his free hand went for the band around his right wrist, squeezing tightly. A choked, dry sob escaped him, unbidden, starting off a fresh wave of self beratement.

He took at least a minute to shakily collect himself, condensing the expansive smoke-like chaos of his panic down into something firm and storable, something he’d most likely beat himself with later, no doubt. For now, he just needed to be clear and _normal_ , and it was a toll he was long since used to paying. 

Thudding back down the stairs with his camera in hand, he flashed an overly compensating grin at Noctis, still stood where he’d left him and looking up at him with that same concern from lunch. 

“Hey, Prompto?” Noctis begin to uncurl from where he was leant against the banister, already opening up to be receptive to a problem Prompto wasn’t ready to admit he had. 

“I’m fine-” Cutting over him, Prompto ticked his shoulder up in a shrug like he was physically trying to rid himself of Noct’s concern as he might a bothersome fly. “Wow Noct, can a guy not take the time to use the bathroom?” 

This seemed to be enough to throw Noctis off the scent, as he pushed himself up from his spot with a dramatic roll of the eyes. 

“Okay, don’t wanna know.”

Laughing, Prompto thundered down the last few steps at speed, jostling into Noctis’ shoulder bodily as they fell into step. They were across the road when Prompto finally worked up the nerve to ask, his tone as un-belyingly nonchalant as he could manage. 

“Yo Noct.” Beside him, his friend hummed by way of acknowledgment. “So, the guy who came down before I did, did he look familiar?” 

Noctis frowned, his gaze still fixed on the jagged crystal formations, rising sculpture like from the disc of Cauthess in the distance. 

“Guy who came down before you?” He spoke slowly, cautious and confused, and instantly Prompto wished he hadn’t mentioned it. “No one came down before you.” Peeling his gaze away from the landscape, Noctis fixed Prompto with a worried expression, marred only by a confused frown. “Why?”

“Oh.” Prompto floundered, suddenly unable to look at Noctis, who continued to watch him closely. “Nothing just-” Scrambling for something believable, Prompto threw out a half-truth. “After you clocked out yesterday I was out on the balcony for a bit, and the dude in the room next to ours stuck his head out and just…” He trailed off. With his camera cradled close to his chest protectively, his left hand peeled away from it to rub at the back of his neck, elbow pointed up towards the clear blue sky above them like a signal. “I dunno, he looked familiar,” he finished lamely.

“Familiar,” Noct echoed flatly.

“Yeah. Thought I heard him leave his room when I went up so I figured-” He clamped his hand back around the lens of his camera as if it might ground him, the curve of it a reassuring fit in his palm. “Doesn’t matter.”

“If you say so.” As they reached the big plant boxes, Noctis gave him one final once over before letting the topic slide, his attention turning to the coin operated tourist telescope. “Hey how much gil do you have on you? I wanna take a look through this thing.”

By the evening Ignis was back in business mode, their hotel room taken over by their dog eared road map, marked with pencil scratches and references back to more detailed notes in Ignis’ ever filling moleskine notebook. Ignis seemed to have located sticky notes somewhere on his travels that morning, as their map had suddenly started to acquire them in patches like flaking, pastel scales, stained yellow with exhausted age. 

It was normal for him to take a backseat when this kind of serious talk started to go down, easier by far to fade into the background and let the important people talk. That wasn’t what he was here for, after all. What the fuck did he know about battle tactics and big-picture planning? The new plan wasn’t especially different from its predecessor, still merely a plan of attack based on sketchy information, only this time, a little better informed. Whenever the reliability of the source got called into question, however, Gladio stood up for Talcott as a tiny bastion of knowledge.

“Kid knows his stuff. Got more use out of the Amicitia library than Iris ever did.” There was a twist of amusement in Gladio’s voice that Prompto knew he hadn’t heard since their stay at Galdin. It should be refreshing, reassuring even, but instead it felt like a sharp twist of irritation at his back. Iris gasped in mock offense from her spot on one of the beds next to Noct, who had been one step above silent the entire time Gladio and Ignis had been talking. She braced herself against his shoulder, a hand curling into the fabric of his jacket as she leaned forward to banter back at her brother. The action was harmless- they’d known each other since they were kids after all. It made sense for Noct to be alright with her being so close, but Prompto couldn’t help but feel another stab of irritation about it. 

He got it, really, this gradual return to normality after everything- there was no other way to cope. Staying sane under the circumstances demanded for a return to the casual aspects of their group dynamic. All their banter and light heartedness had a place again, and after this morning Prompto had thought he was ready for that too. Still, there was something unshakable about his mood tonight. He didn’t feel like himself, as much as he ever felt like he had a self to feel like. 

The conversation moved on, and Prompto started to tune it out as the topic slipped naturally from their planned run at this new royal tomb to less important small talk. He wanted to shut himself out on the balcony again, even if it ran the risk of seeing the stranger in the other room. Although the shutters were open to allow the breeze passage, he felt cooped up, folded into the leather chair with his camera in his lap, chasing imaginary smudges across the lens with his lens pen. 

Even though his relative silence was a self imposed one, it felt suffocating, as if he was not only refraining from talking, but entirely unable to. He opened his mouth, gaping like a fish at the surface of a stagnant pond, gasping for words, to be heard, to have his existence confirmed and acknowledged by the only people in the world he’d ever fought to care about him. 

“So, uh-” To his relief the words didn’t sound forced, and as Ignis turned around to look at him with a placid kind of fondness, the struggling wave building in his lungs died; sighing itself into non existence against someone else’s shores. “I was thinking, the Chocobo Post isn’t too far from here, right? Y’know, the one they used to advertise on the radio?” 

“With the dreadfully catchy jingle. Yes?” Ignis supplied, cooly, but with a hint of amusement. Again, the normalness of it felt like a discord, nauseating enough to make him feel off balance. He forged ahead, regardless.

“Yeah! So, wouldn’t Chocobos be an idea? To maybe, I dunno… Get us around a little faster?” The look on Ignis’ face was one of those horribly unreadable expressions that had always sparked the fear of _Ignis_ deep in Prompto ever since they’d first met when he was in highschool, but to Prompto’s surprise, Gladio chimed in to back him up.

“We could use ‘em, Iggy. Kid’s right, they’re faster than going everywhere on foot. Car can’t get us everywhere.” 

Prompto bit his lip, gaze flicking from Gladio’s open expression to Ignis’ pinched frown of concern as they exchanged one of their trademark silent conversations. 

“Plus like, who doesn’t love Chocobos?” Slipping back into his usual sunny demeanour, Prompto relaxed his camera into his lap and shot Iris a grin, which was returned with interest.

“I suppose…” Ignis started cautiously, as if chewing over the idea. Noctis grunted loudly, interrupting the conversation as he clutched his head and gasped, fingers clawing at his scalp, gritting his teeth through the pain. “Noct─ are you alright?” 

Crossing the space in a stride and a half, Ignis knelt down beside him, smoothing his bangs out of his face easily to check his expression.

“Yeah,” Noctis managed to grit out “Just another headache.” 

Shifting unhappily on his knees, Ignis didn’t look even remotely satisfied with this answer. Chasing Noct about it wouldn’t lead anywhere though, even Prompto was well aware of that. Admitting weakness wasn’t something Noctis did if he could help it. Ignis looked up at Gladio again, and for a moment Prompto felt like he was intruding on something private just by looking at them; the plea in Ignis’ face not meant for him. Shifting awkwardly, he fixed his attention back on his camera.

“I think the Chocobo Post is a good call for tomorrow. We may even be able to pick up more information regarding this supposed royal tomb, if we’re lucky. Given how much we are having to rely on local knowledge, it would do good to accumulate some.” Ignis’ tone still held a sharp ring of concern, but once again Prompto found himself with nothing but respect for how quickly the man could collect himself into practicality. “Agreed.” Standing up from his seat on the bed, Gladio stretched out his shoulders, the lines of his tattoo moving to simulate a bird ruffling its feathers as it preened. Prompto couldn’t help but watch, his captivation equal parts envy and attraction. 

“For now, however, I think rest is advisable.” Ignis touched the back of his hand against Noct’s forehead one last time, checking his temperature before being batted away by his increasingly surly charge. On the other side of the room, Gladio grunted, an involuntary sigh of released tension escaping him.

“Alright Prompto, get your ass in gear before I claim this bed for myself.” Gladio’s boot connected with the side of Prompto’s outstretched foot on his way past him, gesturing for Iris to head towards the door ahead of him, the jostle meant to be friendly as much as a hurry up. “You got first pass at the bathroom.”

“You sure?” Prompto sat up straighter and scooted forward to the edge of his seat, hands bracing against the edge of the cushion, his shoulders tensed and ready to propel himself into standing. “Ignis?” The man in question drew his gaze away from Noctis (who had already divested himself of his pants the moment Iris had left the room, and crawled under the covers to form a prince sized lump) and gave Prompto a tired smile which crinkled genuinely at the corner of his eyes.

“Go ahead.” 

Pushing himself into standing, Prompto twisted the bracelets around his left wrist idly, giving himself a moment in which to think, like the buffer of a computer. They were just being nice to him, so why did it feel like they wanted him out of the room? Did they want to talk without him? _Let the adults talk, Prompto, you wouldn’t understand anyway._

“Sure, thanks.” He let his hands fall limply by his sides, bracelets clacking against a stud on his jeans in the quiet. Ignis caught his gaze as he passed him, a note of persistent concern shining back at him from his deep sea-green eyes. He did his best to brush it off, like lint from a jacket, as he entered the bathroom. 

Closing the door behind him, he pressed back against it, palms flat to its surface, head hanging forward between hunched shoulders. After a short pause, he could just about make out Gladio’s low timbre, rhythm slow and cautious. Biting back the whine of frustration that threatened to burst up out of him, he pushed himself off the door and into the bathroom. Mercifully, the hammering echo of water against tiles was enough to drown out any conversation being held next door, although his treacherous thoughts remained loud, coherent, and clear.

They were up early the next day, much to Noctis’ disgust, the sun’s infant rays creeping in through the warped gaps in the shutters to tug hesitantly at eyelids and blankets alike─ whatever they could reach. Despite Iris’ pleading over breakfast, Gladio remained steadfast that she should stay put in Lestallum. After all, they weren’t just headed there for chocobos, but information as well, which, as they had already learned, tended to come with a price tag of risky work. 

“‘Sides, we might end up sleepin’ out there a couple nights,” Gladio leveled his spoon at her accusingly, leaning forward on his elbows to add extra weight to his serious expression. “And the last thing you want is to be crammed into a tent with four sweaty dudes after a dinner of beans.” Ignis looked as though he was about to protest, brows pinched and lips parted, leaning forward over the remnants of the first coffee of the day and his breakfast pastry, when Noctis beat him to it with a laboured groan. 

“What, _again?_ ” Although Noct’s complaint was no doubt genuine, Prompto cottoned on quickly, rushing in to back Gladio up and hopefully fend off an irate Ignis.

“Yeah again, and you’ll like ‘em! They’re good for you, man, trust me. It’s my turn to cook, and I say we’re having beans.” At this blatant lie, Ignis shot Prompto an inquisitive squint, evidently twigging as to what Gladio was attempting, but still disapproving of the methodology. Catching his eye, Prompro continued, grinning as he pushed his rather wobbly luck out over a metaphorical tightrope. “You never hear the song, Noct?” 

Right on cue, Noctis pulled a face, confused. 

“No? What song?” _Perfect buddy, you’re doing great._

“Beans, beans, good for your heart, the more you eat the more you─”

“I think I get the picture!” Iris held up her hands defensively, as if trying to throw up a physical barrier between herself and the idea of bean related flatulence, although she was laughing. Gladio, too, was grinning, and although Ignis looked distinctly ruffled, the soft upturn at the corner of his lips gave him away entirely. 

The drive from Lestallum to the Chocobo Post was a pleasant one, a scenic descent from the disc-heated streets into the marginally cooler rolling landscapes and sparse woodlands of Duscae. Prompto found himself leaning over the edge of the car door, head pillowed against his crossed arms, simply watching the world roll by. The effect was calming, as if none of his worries could quite keep up with him whilst in transit, that, at least for a little while, he was permitted to feel contented and at peace. The word ‘liminal’ floated up to the surface of his resting mind. Didn’t that mean something about transitional states being somehow out of reality, or, something? 

The first bulky yellow sign they spot brought him out of his trance-like calm, however. 

“Hey! We’re almost there! Noct, wake up, we’re almost there!” Bouncing up onto his knees in his seat, he leaned over into the back, his hands folded neatly over his stowed headrest. Prompto regarded his best friend thoughtfully, still asleep after having dozed off not long after leaving the city; slumped back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest with his knees spread wide, head lolling onto his chest. It wouldn’t surprise Prompto if Noct had managed to drool on his crisp white t-shirt, too. “Hey, Gladio? Slap him.” 

Wordlessly, Gladio complied, attention still focused on the novel in his hand as he finished his sentence. The palm of Gladio’s free hand made sharp but not forceful contact with Noct’s thigh. Although it was enough to give the Prince a decent jostle, it did little else beyond.

“Dead to the world, I’m afraid.” Ignis’ raised voice carried through to the back of the car, above the buffeting white noise of the wind. Prompto gave a grunt of defeat and slumped back into his own seat, content to continue watching the world go by until they got there.

Ignis pulled up into one of the few dirt-patch parking spots tucked away under the dappled shade of the trees, a few loose stones making a satisfying crunch beneath the tires as the Regalia came to rest. As he killed the engine, Prompto was already ready to vault out of his seat, having spied the first hint of yellow feathers through the trees. He’d never seen a real Chocobo before, not even at a distance, let alone up close. Gladio grunted and stretched, patting around on the seat next to him for his jacket as Prompto tumbled out of the car.

For a moment, there had been no fall of Insomnia, no tragedy, no premature responsibility─ He was seventeen again, and there was fun to be had with Noctis in tow, Ignis and Gladio a safe distance away at all times. 

“Noct, c’mon!” Bouncing round to the back of the car, Prompto gently slapped the sleeping Prince on the cheek, twice in quick succession. Noct grunted, shifting irritably in his seat and moved to roll away from his rude awakening. His eyes fluttered open just long enough to register the crooked grin being aimed at him full force. 

“Prompto…” Noctis’ sleepy groan sparked a familiar flicker of endearment in Prompto’s chest, one which he allowed space. He’d always imagined this must also be how Ignis felt when dealing with Noctis, so long as he wasn’t being absolutely belligerent. 

“Yeah bud,” Prompto crouched, leaning forward so his face was only a few inches away from Noct’s, his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “What is it?”

Noctis grunted and stretched, finally stirring into more or less full wakefulness.

“If you slap me again I’m declaring it treason.” 

Prompto cackled, hopping away swiftly before Noctis could exact any form of instant retribution. Grinning, he waited for Noctis to get out of the car, using the moment to take in his surroundings as his excitement idled over. Ignis, already a short way away from the car, following Gladio towards the little kiosk just visible from their parking spot, managed to catch his eye briefly. His elegant sharpness softened for a moment, offering Prompto a very genuine smile, small, but warm and painted in pastel tones of endearment. He returned it a touch awkwardly, a hint of colour rushing to bloom across his cheeks and the very tips of his ears, his heart seizing oddly inside his chest. Ignis turned away, striking up a quiet conversation with Gladio, seemingly satisfied. 

Prompto wasn’t sure he understood what had just happened, what exactly Ignis had meant, what thoughts had been behind that enigmatic little smile, or why he suddenly felt so caught─ like a kid with a crush. Guiltily, he glanced back at Noctis, just in time to avoid being startled by his undetected proximity. Noct bumped shoulders with him, inelegant and heavy, reaching into his space to press his camera into his hands. He must have forgotten it in the car.

“You’ll want this.” Noctis gave him a knowing look, leaning back to give him a lazy once over as he slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket, the casual one with the behemoth on the back that Prompto had always liked so much. Prompto scratched awkwardly at the back of his head, grinning back at him sheepishly as he cradled his camera in close to his chest.

“Thanks, man.”

Brushing past him, Noctis made his way up the short slope into the post proper. Prompto half jogged to catch up with him, falling into step with a practiced ease as they came up to the criminally cheery attendant.

Noct shot approximately half a glance in Ignis’ direction before apparently electing to ignore their companions entirely, causing Prompto to hesitate for a second; torn between want, and unstated responsibility. The contest was shortly won as the phrase ‘Chocobo racing’ entered his life, cementing all current and foreseeable future decisions that might hinge upon this particular corner of their road map.

After a quick session of being encouraged to feed and handle the birds, something Prompto had only ever imagined up until this point, he was then elated to discover it was they themselves that would be doing the racing. 

The track was primitive, not much more than a dirt path with the occasional section of kitschy white-painted fencing to mark their course, but Prompto couldn’t care less. They were dreadful, neither of them truly at home yet with the reality of being up on the back of a living breathing thing that was fully capable of ignoring damn stupid instructions when it was given them, and Noctis won their first staggered race by accident more than any kind of finesse. A rematch was issued, then another, and another, each pass of the rough loop a little steadier than the last as they worked it out with a sense of humour, and more importantly, a lot of help from the pleasant, ponytailed trainer on standby at the finish line. 

Prompto hit the ground harder than expected when he eventually dismounted, stumbling oddly in an attempt to compensate for his momentary loss of balance and ending in an uncomfortable half-crouch. When it was apparent that he wasn’t about to topple forward face-first into the dirt, he whipped around, finger pointing accusingly, mouth open and ready to shoot down any sassy remark Noctis was no doubt about to make. Noctis managed no more than a prematurely triumphant ‘ha!’ before he fumbled his own ill-planned dismount, his foot catching in the stirrup and twisting him so that he landed squarely on his ass. With a groan, he keeled over sideways into the grass verge as his bird made an indignant ‘kweh’ above him.

Prompto laughed, plopping down in the grass next to him. Grinning down at him, he nudged Noctis’ seemingly boneless knee with his foot as he settled back on his hands. From his slumped position on the ground, Noctis grinned back up at him, an unsuppressed chuckle escaping him, unguarded and genuine, relaxed even in light of his recent humiliation. Something inside Prompto’s chest that he’d never dared to name lit up and constricted in on itself all at once.

“Ah, sweet chocobos,” Prompto leaned back on his hands, his eyes sliding shut as he took the time to catalogue all the unfamiliar aches his body had presented him with, his tone contented and light. “You always set my soul at ease.” 

“Never realised you were so into chocobos.” Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Noctis attempted to fix his mussed bangs before giving up entirely.

“I’m totally into chocobos─” Hesitating, he shot Noct a sideways glance, just in time to see his eyebrows raise the way they did when he was waiting to line up a joke, and with a nervous laugh he continued. “Don’t take that the wrong way.” 

Sighing through his nose, Noctis leaned forward, elbows finding knees as he ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to asses the damage to all his careful styling before he gave up entirely and ruffled it into further disarray by choice. For a moment, Prompto guessed he’d dropped the entire thing.

“There’s no wrong way to love a chocobo.” 

For a moment, the silence stretched, neither of them looking directly at the other. Prompto nodded thoughtfully as Noctis ceased fussing with his hair and settled into a slouch. Prompto’s gaze flickered over this new tousled bird’s nest, barely having time to register it before he caught the brilliant blue glint at the corner of Noct’s eye watching him carefully through black bangs. Briefly, the tension held, and then like a water balloon on impact, it burst open into a snort of amusement that made Prompto’s sinuses ache.

“Fuck, dude.” Tears started to form as he choked out the words through his laughter, and before him, the image of Noctis blurred, although not enough to hide the crinkle at his eyes, nor his shaking shoulders. “I wish I could believe that.”

The laughter was cleansing, painful and earned, the burning in his lungs as he struggled to gulp down air was as a sacred flame raking dutifully across his soul. He felt invigorated, wheezing himself into a forced calm with his back against the coolness of the grass, all life and loyalty and little else. 

“Having fun, I see.” Ignis’s crisp tone still rang out as clear as a bell against the continued rush of blood blotting out his hearing, and still grinning, Prompto pushed himself once more into a sitting position. Gladio and Ignis were walking towards them from the souvenir shack beside the road, the latter holding something akin to a rolled up poster in his right hand and smiling softly. “Nothing _too_ scandalous, I should hope?” From the ground beside him, Noctis choked, red in the face and clutching at his stomach as the giggle fit seized him, pulling him back under for another round. With a long-suffering whine, Prompto fought it, but it was no use, one look at Noctis and he was gone. Flopping forward, he rolled until he bumped blindly into his best friend, grasping handfuls of Noct’s jacket and pressing his forehead against his shaking shoulder in an attempt to ground himself through a fresh sluice of howling laughter.

Gladio grunted ambiguously, his opinion of their mirth unclear without a visual.

“Well laugh it up while you can, we got a job to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh this should be quick to update" LIES. DECEPTION AND LIES. [sobbing]  
> I'm still going to update this to the end though!  
> As before, thanks to the beautiful and best Butterfly_girl for beta reading this and correcting my nonsense <3

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, a big thank you to @Butterfly_girl for reading through this and reassuring me it was worth posting <3  
> There won't be a regular update schedule for this, but I doubt it'll be too long until the next chapter is up. Got some fun stuff planned for the future. Thank you for reading!


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